


Movie Night

by mellostopheles



Category: Deadly Premonition | Red Seeds Profile
Genre: F/F, Sibling Friendships, Watching Movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8517415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellostopheles/pseuds/mellostopheles
Summary: Friday night is movie night in and around Greenvale. A few character interactions over movies set before the game, on one night in different households. (Each chapter features different characters).





	1. York and Zach

York felt his legs give out before he was ready for it, and found himself a second later in the cool embrace of the hotel sheets, dunked into the bed like he’d tripped backwards into a beige pond. He stretched his arms over his head and felt the bruise on his side humming for attention like a distant insect. He could not resist prodding it, even though it brought on a new wave of pain. The suspect they’d been chasing had elbowed him hard, almost knocking him off his feet. He had managed to catch them at a corner though, and they would be spending the night in a cell. York was going to spend his last night in the hotel before heading off in the morning.

“I like Connecticut, Zach,” York breathed, shaking his feet and trying to lure the shoes off onto the floor. “But I do have my doubts about overstaying our welcome. This is, what, the second time we’ve been out here in five months? And both times, for such gruesome discoveries. That’s not the association I had before we came the first time. I was hoping we might have enough free time to see some whales. Imagine, Zach! Whales, out in the wild. Pretty exciting, isn’t it?” York pulled himself up into a sitting position and began searching for the TV remote. He had fallen asleep in front of the TV last night, and it could have got anywhere by now. He smirked to himself as he began overturning the bed covers.

“Looks like we have ourselves a second case already, Zach,” York murmured as he hunted for the remote. “Tell me, did you have anything in mind? I feel like a movie. Something fun. Maybe even a sequel! We never get around to watching sequels, do we, Zach? Unless they show up in the cinema…” York found a lump under the pillow and flipped it, hoping to discover the remote. Instead, he found the remains of a hot dog, wrapped in a foil blanket, that had practically calcified overnight. He thought he had eaten it all, but he was so terrible at finishing meals. He always ended up getting distracted.

“Remember our last date, Zach?” York said to himself, suppressing a laugh. “She wanted to go to the pan-Asian restaurant across the street from her office. But, apparently, she didn’t think it was appropriate to share food.” He remembered. He had told what he considered to be one of his funnier anecdotes. A case of mistaken identity where the criminal he had brought in had turned out to be a scared seventeen-year-old who had no idea the wallet, and ID, they had stolen belonged to a wanted arsonist. And it had all seemed far too easy to catch them at the time, too. As he had told the story, he had idly picked away at his own food, and eventually his date’s food, barely noticing he was doing it. When it came to food, York did like to try everything. He shook his head at the memory.

“She never called us back, did she?” he laughed. “Of course, you told me she wouldn’t, Zach. You were right. Yes, as always. You think you know women so much better than me, don’t you?” York smiled to himself. “Maybe you’re right. I do have terrible luck with them. And I don’t think it would have worked out anyway. She didn’t want to order dessert. Tell me Zach, what kind of person willing skips dessert? At a restaurant, too! I didn’t see much in our future.” Finally, he found the remote, jammed in between the bedframe and the mattress. He pushed himself back into the pillows and flicked on the TV with a grin.

“I’m sure I’ll find someone at some point, Zach,” York murmured. “You’re always worrying about it. Sometimes I think you might think I’m hopeless. I’d be offended if we didn’t know each other so well, but I’m sure you’re just concerned. You don’t have to worry though, Zach. When I find someone, it’ll work out.” He skimmed through the channels, ignoring a news program, weather, several cartoons. “What type of person? I’m not sure. How about you, Zach? I know what you want. Someone sweet, right?” He hesitated, smirking when he got his answer. “I thought so. That’s just like you, Zach. You want a simple life. I think I want someone more, oh… adventurous. I want to take her to a theme park. Dare each other to eat hot peppers, and watch all the new horror releases together. What’s that, Zach? Yes, I agree, you’re more of a dinner date sort of person. Maybe coffee. In a nice, local coffee shop. It’s all about the atmosphere, right, Zach? You need a chance to relax and warm up to people. You’re always telling me I relax too fast. What did you say this time? I told that sergeant his jacket didn’t fit right at the back. He thought I was trying to flirt with him, like you warned me he would.” York tutted quietly to himself, recalling the look on the man’s face. “I never much liked redheads, though. Except in the movies. Speaking of, Zach. Shall we treat ourselves?”

York opened the hotel’s selection of payperview movies. Skipping straight to the theatrical releases, he hovered over a few options. There were several John Hughes movies, which he knew Zach might enjoy, but browsing the rest of the collection led him to his final choice. He clicked the remote, stretched his shoulders back into the pillows, and idly rubbed at the bruise in his side.

“Now, Zach, you don’t have to tell me not to touch it. I already know that, but it feels like it’s helping,” he muttered, as the film logos scrolled past on the screen. “You always worry about me. Like mom used to. The bruise won’t get any worse.” A smile crept onto his lips again, and he reached for the packet of cigarettes by the bed. “More importantly, Zach, pay attention to this! 1982, with Kurt Russell. We haven’t seen this in years! You know it, Zach. Remember how tense we felt during that one scene? And when the dog begins to turn… that really got under my skin! I’m glad I had you to hold my hand for that one, Zach. I think it’ll be better the second time. We won’t get nervous.” He beamed as the opening theme music began, the familiar pulsing beat that reminded him of Jaws.

“That’s right, Zach,” he agreed cheerfully. “The Thing!”


	2. Carol and Thomas

There came a loud squeak from the kitchen and Carol cast her eyes in her brother’s direction. He had stuck his hand in his mouth, sucking the index finger where he’d caught it on the inside of the oven. She frowned at him, faint concern rather than judgement, before slowly letting it peel back into a weak smile. Thomas shook off the damaged hand and ran it under water, before successfully retrieving the tray of cookies he had been reaching for. He placed it carefully on the counter and began nudging the cookies onto a plate. Carol waited impatiently until, finally, he brought it over to the sofa where she was sitting.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” Thomas said. Carol ignored him in favour of snatching a handful, and he sat down beside her. “We were out of M&Ms,” he added as an afterthought.

“Don’t worry about it,” Carol said as she shoved the first cookie into her mouth. It was perfection, as always. Thomas had made them with lumps of chocolate, which were now melting into her tongue. She did not wait long before throwing the second in after the first, and noisily chewing it up. Thomas was still on his first, having just taken one mouse-like bite out of it. As the initial cookie lust faded, Carol remembered that they were supposed to be watching a movie. She forced herself to swallow her mouthful, coughed, and turned to face Thomas. He looked back at her with wide eyes and an obvious look of anxiety.

“Is there something wrong with them?” he asked, indicating the cookies.

“No, stupid,” Carol sneered, poking him playfully in the shoulder. “As if you don’t know by now that your baking wins prizes.” Thomas laughed lightly to himself, turning away with a pink rush in his cheeks. He never had learnt how to take a compliment. Carol knew that by now. She could never quite forget the evening she had barged into his bedroom to find Thomas trying to fit into a pair of red heels. She had quickly blurted out that they looked good on him, but he had not wanted to discuss it for months. Even now, whenever Carol tried to carefully suggest that he suited a certain shade of lipstick, or that he had found the right neckline for his shoulders, he would shudder and retreat from the praise as if it was Sleeping Beauty’s spindle. She thought briefly to herself now that maybe it was just the type of compliments she was handing out, or rather the subject of them.

“Hey Thomas,” she said suddenly. “These are your best cookies yet, I swear.” Thomas bit his lip and turned away, shaking his head silently. No, Carol had been right before. Any compliment went over badly with Thomas. She snorted quietly in amusement. That was certainly not something they had in common.

“Are we going to watch the film?” Thomas asked, changing the topic away from himself. He took his second bite of the cookie he was holding. He ate like a squirrel, Carol thought, in those tiny bites. No wonder he had them on all his keyrings.

“Remember when mom took us to feed them in the park that time?” she blurted out. Thomas frowned at her, and she had to remind herself that he couldn’t read her mind. “Squirrels,” she added. “That time we went to feed squirrels.” Thomas brightened at the reminder.

“Oh, yes, of course!” he said. “How old were you? You were really short, I remember, I had to help you reach the climbing bars at the park.” Carol sniggered, nudging him shoulder to shoulder.

“Yeah well you never were,” she pointed out. “God, people used to ask if you were my dad, cause you were so tall even back then. Remember?” Thomas smiled and nodded. The age difference between them meant less now, at least as far as she was concerned, but when she had been a kid it felt like the largest distance in the world. Thomas had been an adult since she was eight. He had always tried to be the sensible one, keeping an eye on her. Now that they were older, she was trying to pay him back for it. Not that he would ever completely give up looking after her, even if she wanted him to. “I was like six,” she answered after a moment. “I think I was six when we fed the squirrels.”

“What a nice day,” Thomas sighed happily, drifting back to it in his mind. Carol was happy to see him warm up. He had been off lately. Something about George, certainly. She had not wanted to ask too many questions. It was part of why she wanted them to just have a quiet evening. The Galaxy of Terror was going to be closed all night.

“Anyway, yeah, the movie,” she said, going back to it. She was too distracted. Whenever she was worried, she liked having something to occupy herself. Something to talk about. Silence to fill. The DVD cover was on the floor, and she handed it to Thomas, before getting to her feet. Collectively, their joined apartments were too small for much furniture, so Thomas kept an old television in the closet, out of the way. As they spent most of their evenings at the bar, they didn’t watch it too often. It made movie nights a treat. Carol went to fetch it, wheeling it out and positioning it in front of the sofa. Thomas was reading the film case in his head.

“A romantic comedy?” he said at last. “I didn’t realise you liked them.”

“Yeah, well…” Carol muttered. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Carol,” Thomas said warmly, smirking at her. She could not help but smile back in response.

“No, maybe not,” she agreed. “I thought you’d like it, don’t get up my ass about it! All right?”

“Yes, Carol, that’s all right,” Thomas laughed. He passed her the case and she knelt down to put the DVD in, waiting until she was sure it had worked before planting herself back on the sofa.

“Anna leant it to me,” she said. “You know her. Always ready to meet Prince Charming.”

“So was I when I was eighteen,” Thomas joked, cautiously nudging Carol’s shoulder.

“Good luck in this town,” Carol snorted. “For her, I mean, we’re… we’re all right.” She had to add it quickly as she had already noticed Thomas’ expression slip, seen his face cloud over just enough to show what he was thinking about. “We’re all right,” Carol repeated, and Thomas nodded, as if he believed it.

“I hope this has a happy ending,” Thomas said suddenly. Carol felt herself tense up until she realised he was talking about the film. The opening pan of the city was just beginning on screen.

“Sure it will,” she laughed, trying to sound blasé. “It’s Anna’s. She cries at sad endings.”

“So do I,” Thomas admitted, before finally reaching for another cookie.


	3. Becky and Anna

It was just starting to rain outside as Becky walked back into her bedroom carrying a bowl of popcorn and a six pack of cola. Anna was spread out on the bed, holding a magazine up in the air. Becky smirked to herself at the messy pile of best friend she had come back to.

“Anna, Jesus, what if we had company?” Becky complained, feigning distress. Anna folded one leg over the other and patted down the pleats of her skirt.

“We don’t,” she reasoned. “Why, is Quint coming over? Is he gonna be all offended like if I sit like this? Cause seriously? Whatever. I was here first!” Anna laughed and Becky ignored her, hiding her amusement. She went to sit down on the sofa and wait for Anna to join her.

“Anna, get over here. I don’t wanna fall asleep during the movie, and I’m tired, so let’s start.” Anna did not respond at once. Becky glanced over her shoulder and saw that she was still reading the magazine, gently sucking her bottom lip, distracted. Becky dug a hand into the bowl of popcorn. If it was gone by the time Anna returned from dreamland, that was her own fault.

“Hey Becky,” Anna called over. “Would you say I prefer spontaneity, or stability?”

“You prefer eating my food and getting your lipstick on my sweaters, which you said you hadn’t borrowed,” Becky laughed back. “Is there an answer for that?”

“No, there’s no answer for making your friend cooler by association, and how generous that is of you, sorry,” Anna answered smugly. “Seriously though, I can’t pick. Both are nice, right?”

“You’re doing another of those awful dating quizzes, aren’t you?” Becky despaired of her. “Just drop it and come watch the movie with me.” Anna let out a long, purposeful sigh, but she abandoned the magazine to come and take up the place next to her friend. She picked a piece of popcorn out of the bowl, tossed it into the air, and caught it on her tongue. Becky was about to be impressed, when Anna began coughing horribly. It must have got stuck in her throat. Becky hammered her on the back until Anna spat up the un-chewed chunk of food, before putting it straight back in her mouth and eating it.

“Sad how I’m stuck doing quizzes when I’m such a catch,” Anna said, beaming her warm smile at Becky with barely any appreciation of irony. Becky had to laugh. Anna joined in and the sound quickly filled the room, rising far above the idling DVD menu on the TV screen.

“God!” Becky cried out, when she was able to push the laughter down. “I wish you _did_ have a boyfriend, so someone else was responsible for you!” Although Becky was still giggling to herself, Anna snorted and gave her a sarcastic sneer.

“Sure,” she agreed dryly. “Does Quint have a brother? I’m dying here. I need him to exist.” Becky caught on to the shift in mood and stared back at Anna, the smile flattened out of her expression. She began to protest, but Anna continued over her, lowering her voice to a deep drawl which Becky realised was supposed to resemble Quint. “Hey Anna, baby, can you come over here? I was trying to write a check and I spelt my name wrong, can you fix it? Hey, Anna, baby girl, I got one of my boots stuck on my foot, will you come help me out? Oh, Anna, just so you know, I –”

“Anna, shut up!” Becky snapped. “Quint’s not like that at all, you don’t have to be such a –”

“No, no, sorry!” Anna began apologising quickly. “Sorry, Becky, I didn’t mean Quint, I just…” She hesitated, trying to work it out in her head. “I just meant it seems like all the guys at school are like that. _You’re_ the lucky one, cause Quint is…. yeah. So different. Like, he really is. You’re lucky.” Becky slowly allowed herself to untense. She watched Anna’s expression carefully, trying to decide if she was telling the truth. Anna smiled back at her and Becky sighed, choosing to accept the apology.

“Yeah, maybe,” she said carefully. “There’s been some stuff lately… I don’t know, I’m sorry for shouting, it’s just I’ve been sensitive about it lately.” Anna put an arm around Becky’s shoulder and gently squeezed her.

“It’s okay,” she agreed. “I’m sorry, too. Quint’s really nice, and… well, look, I just didn’t mean anything. Like, at all.” Becky’s expression had faltered and Anna forced a laugh to try and revive the moment, arm still wrapped firmly around her friend’s shoulder. “Hey! Just remind me not to date anyone our age, okay? I think you got the only good one.” Becky hesitated, but after a moment she laughed along too, happy to turn the uncomfortable discussion into a joke.

“Definitely!” Becky laughed weakly. “I mean… yeah, without Quint I’d feel the same. I think. Anyway… I don’t know.” She still felt uncomfortable and started the movie without a word. Anna looked at her for another few seconds, before turning to face the screen. Becky could not easily focus. It was not fair to blame Anna for stirring the pot, but she had had her doubts recently. It wasn’t that Quint had done anything wrong, exactly, it was just a feeling she had had. Some feeling of finality. As if this was about to be it, forever, and she only had a limited amount of time left to jump out of the plane before it landed. A part of her just wanted, she supposed, to be reckless for a little while. While she could.

“What else is she in?” Anna asked of a character on screen, tipping her head towards Becky and causing her hair to slide against Becky’s skin, like honey dripping down her shoulders. Becky realised Anna still had an arm around her and carefully eased it off.

“Uh… dunno,” she said, stiffly shrugging. “Lots of things.”

“Okay,” Anna said. After being ousted from leaning against Becky, she was resting her head in one hand and staring intently at the screen. Becky knew from experience that Anna often struggled to pay attention to things, preferring to chat and distract herself no matter the occasion, so her sudden focus was probably for show. Especially as they had watched this particular film before. “And who’s the guy in it?” she asked suddenly.

“Christian Slater,” Becky told her. Anna let out a little noise of recognition and clasped her hands together.

“Oh god, yeah! I love him in this!” She sighed happily. Becky smirked at Anna’s sudden change of mood, and at the dopey smile spread across her face.

“Great taste, Anna,” she teased. “He tries to blow up the school at the end.”

“Whatever! I’m all for it!” Anna cried out, giggling to herself. “Tall, dark, and handsome… that’s the way, Becky. We can’t all fall perfectly in love with Mr. Nice Guy like you did, you know!” She looked across at Becky, a momentary twinge of worry crossing her eyes, before she saw that Becky was still smiling enough to prove that she wasn’t angry about the comment. Then she began a fresh wave of giggles.

“Lucky me,” Becky breathed. Anna’s eyes stayed on her. She sensed the hesitation, and Becky was sure she was putting it together with their earlier discussion. Becky could see Anna connecting all the dots in her mind. She didn’t have the energy to try and stop her this time.

Anna leant over and kissed her quickly on the cheek. Becky put a hand over the place and gently stroked her fingers across it, as if she was flattening out a fold in a piece of paper. After a few seconds of consideration, Anna moved in to kiss her again, on the mouth. Becky didn’t stop her. It was a chaste kiss, Becky told herself. It didn’t matter. That remained true for the next moment, but soon Anna reached out and grabbed hold of Becky’s arms, squeezing needily, and pressing her face harder against Becky’s. Becky still didn’t stop her. She didn’t want to, and as long as she wasn’t the one leading, then it wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t making it happen. No-one could blame her for what Anna was doing, surely. It was only when Anna grabbed a handful of her hair and began stroking it tenderly between her finger and thumb that Becky felt the need to turn her head away. Anna slipped as she did so, and ended up momentarily upended in Becky’s lap. She quickly righted herself, laughing it off.

“Shit, Becky, I…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s just…” Becky was flushed and her mind felt hazy, as if someone had wrapped up all her thoughts in coloured clingfilm. “It’s just not fair on Quint, so… let’s not, okay?”

“Let’s not, sure,” Anna agreed. “It was just… silly, anyway. Like, I can’t believe you would even think I –”

“Oh, I don’t even think! And I… I never even, either, I…”

“Good, so like… neither of us, even…” They both eventually stopped, as they knew they were saying nothing. There was a heavy, uncomfortably heavy, moment of dead silence, with just the movie in the background, carrying on without them. Then, at almost the exact same moment, Anna and Becky both started to laugh. Nervously at first, but quickly it became comfortable, genuine, and they were able to move past what had happened.

“Damn, Becky, remind me not to try and cheer you up any more, huh? Wouldn’t want _that_ to happen again!” Anna laughed, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Becky quickly agreed, and as she did so, she wondered if either one of them was telling the truth. Thankfully, the movie was still playing, and it was easier to just turn towards it and let the problems of fictional characters absorb her for a while instead. That was much less complicated.


	4. Michael and Harry

The rain was pouring down by the time Michael made it through the front door, panting and out of breath. He put down the bags he had been carrying, and began to peel off the raincoat he was wearing. The thin material clung desperately to his arms and he sighed in agitation at the effort he was expending over it. He would prefer a thicker one, but for some reason, Mr. Stewart had told him it was off the table. From what he could tell, he was the only hapless sucker in Greenvale who was frequently forced out into rainstorms. He might at least have a proper coat. When he had last mentioned it, he had been told that an umbrella was good enough. And Michael was sure it would be, on the very rare occasion when he wasn’t laden down with multiple grocery bags.

When he finally got the coat off, he considered for a moment, before hanging it over one of the busts beside the door. No-one would ever know, he thought. He shook his head fiercely and was rewarded by the slap of wet hair covering his eyes. He made a mental note that it was time to get his bangs trimmed, then picked up his bags, sighed to himself, and began into the mansion. He took the groceries through to the kitchen to deposit everything in the proper place, then when it was all done, picked up the video tape in its rental case that was the last thing left over.

Harry was waiting for him in a sitting room buried in amongst the mansion’s many twists and corridors. It was the only room with a working television set, although working was quite a polite term for it. The thing was ancient. Michael had no doubt that it was an old relic and was sure that, if he was foolish enough to ask, Mr. Stewart would give him a long story about how it had been the centrepiece of his family home and he could not bear to part with it. Even if, Michael had uncharitably thought to himself once or twice, he had been willing to part with the family.

“Michael, is that you?” Harry called out, voice muffled as ever.

“Yes, Mr. Stewart,” Michael answered. As if it was possible he was anyone else. “I was able to make it back before the change in weather, although the rain is now getting worse than ever.” He hovered by the door, waiting to be called into the room.

“Make some tea,” Harry said, and Michael walked over to the sideboard where the teapot sat. As he began fiddling with it, Harry carried on speaking, without looking over. “You need to be careful in the rain, Michael. I can hear it from inside. It’s a storm tonight. What have I told you about the rain in Greenvale? Don’t be so careless with your safety.” Michael rolled his eyes while his back was turned.

“Yes, Mr. Stewart, I’m aware of the danger.” He flicked on the kettle. “But I was able to get everything you asked me for, and it was not raining when I left for the store.”

“I do wish some people would keep their doors open, even in the rain,” Harry mused to himself. “It is so inconvenient having to drive into the next town for supplies.”

“It certainly is,” Michael muttered. “Still, I would not want you to wait. I suppose that this is just our fate.” He heard Harry laugh from across the room, and tilted his head back to look at him.

“I suppose it is, yes,” Harry sniggered to himself. “Ah, but there are worse fates in this world, Michael, I assure you of that. At least we have some understanding of ours. So many others… are perpetually stuck in the dark. Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Yes, of course,” Michael agreed robotically. He drummed his fingers on the sideboard, waiting for the kettle to boil. Harry shook his head and took up the sound, tapping his own fingers on the arm of his chair, in unison. Michael stopped.

“Ignore me, Michael…” he laughed. “Tell me. Did you manage to get it?”

“Oh! Yes.” Michael picked up the video tape and strode over, holding it out so that Harry could see. He received an approving hum for his efforts. He brought the cover up to his own face, turning it over so he could skim over the information on the back. “The owner of the video store laughed at me,” he said suddenly, as an afterthought.

“Presumably because of your poor choice of rainy weather attire,” Harry scoffed in amusement. Michael glanced down at his clothes and noticed for the first time that his once-white suit had soaked through in the rain, and he was left with unfortunate patches of translucency on his arms and legs. Yet another reason why a thicker raincoat would be preferable. He cleared his throat unhappily.

“I’ll… change into something fresh in a moment,” he muttered. “But no, that was not the reason. He found it funny that I still go there to rent videos, when everyone else has moved on from, uh, those. He suggested I would be better off simply buying what I want, as over time it would cost a far smaller amount.” Harry turned his head towards Michael and Michael sensed he was being given Harry’s favourite patronising stare. Not that he could tell, as it was under the mask.

“I don’t want hundreds of video tapes cluttering up this house,” Harry insisted, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “What am I supposed to do? Buy everything I could ever possibly want to see? It’s much easier for you to just go over there and rent them when I want something.”

“Ah, but Mr. Stewart, you always make me… I mean, request that I rent the same video! Every single time you ask me to go!” Michael brandished it as if to prove his point. “That was the other thing that the store owner said. It’s comical that we always rent The Evil Dead!” Despite his frustration, Harry began to laugh again.

“I enjoy it,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, giggling to himself. “Put the video in the machine, Michael. And go and change into something dry. You’re dripping.” Michael did as he was told, repressing a sigh. As he left the room to go and find some clean clothes, he heard the sound of the kettle loudly wailing. With the door closed behind him, he rubbed his temples and shook his head. He could not help, on some level, envying the kettle’s ability to let off steam.


End file.
